


Clean Slant of Light

by Snickfic



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Desert, Feelings, King Thor (Marvel), M/M, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Mid-Credits Scene Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 12:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: Heimdall joined Thor at the side of the truck. The sun was setting fast; the distant hills in front of them were painted golden. “I believe the engine’s magic is depleted,” Heimdall said.Thor offered him a bottle of water. “Not the gasoline. I checked that.”





	Clean Slant of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "roadside blowjobs." Title courtesy of Jon Krakauer.

Thor had learned how to drive. That was the first thing. Heimdall had, too, in theory, but his sight still flickered into far-sight now and again, and after the first collision with a nationally-protected cactus, they'd decided he'd stay on the passenger side thenceforth.

They'd come back to the desert, was the second thing. Norwegian cliffs were all well and good, but Asgardians hadn't the training nor the constitution to live in that kind of winter, and there was nothing homey about it, nothing to motivate Thor to try and keep them there. Arguably there was nothing homey about New Mexico, either—not even Jane, who was in fact in Norway—but Thor found the heat cleansing somehow. Here under a blazing sun, with the help of a few of Idunn's apple seeds and Loki's magic to quench the Earth: here, they would begin again.

Of course, Thor would only live to see it if he and Heimdall ever made it back to the settlement. Heimdall joined Thor at the side of the truck. The sun was setting fast; the distant hills in front of them were painted golden. “I believe the engine’s magic is depleted,” Heimdall said.

Thor offered him a bottle of water. “Not the gasoline. I checked that.” There’d been a gasoline incident, too—definitely not Heimdall’s fault, that one.

“No. Something else. I haven’t the skill the determine what.”

“Nor I. The Valkyrie would,” Thor said wistfully. In addition to slaving and drinking, it turned out she’d learned a great deal about vehicular maintenance on Sakaar. No doubt she’d give them a hard time when they and their injured truck finally limped home.

“Mm,” Heimdall said, non-committal. It was difficult to worry with Heimdall at his side, Thor had found. Heimdall had seen so much—disaster, atrocity, triumph. Very little ruffled him. There was a peace in that.

He, too, was golden in the evening light. His eyes had lost their hue almost entirely in the journey to Earth, but now the setting sun burnished his skin very nearly the same color. He tipped his head to take a drink, his throat stretching long, and Thor was struck with a yearning he could hardly account for. “Heimdall,” he said, and stopped, feeling foolish and undone.

Heimdall’s glance was warm, mildly curious. It was suddenly more than Thor could take. He crowded against Heimdall, catching his mouth in a kiss. Heimdall hummed into it, pleased, but before long he broke it and said, “It’s very warm to be touching this much.”

“We need not,” Thor said. He shifted away and dropped to his knees on the sand, drifted up over the edge of asphalt. He reached for Heimdall’s belt. This was not precisely what he yearned for, the satiation of this physical need that he and Heimdall had sated many times on the long trip through the stars, but it was something. 

Heimdall looked down upon him with that warm, secret smile. Thor had wondered if Heimdall would protest, the first time Thor had knelt to suck his cock: was this something unfitting for kings? Must he give this up or dishonor himself? Heimdall had guessed at his thoughts somehow and coaxed them from him at last. _No, my king_ , he’d said, stroking Thor’s cheek. _You do **me** honor._

Now Thor untied Heimdall’s belt and tugged his trousers down, letting them fall around his feet. His smallclothes followed. There was nothing beneath them but Heimdall himself, his powerful thighs and his cock hanging between them, just beginning to fill. “You may find it a challenge to interest me in this heat,” Heimdall said, with that same quiet amusement.

“A worthy challenge,” Thor said. He gripped Heimdall lightly, tracing a vein with his thumb. Heimdall’s breath hitched. But Thor had promised no touching—or not much of it, anyway—and so he bent and guided Heimdall to his mouth.

Heimdall tasted of sweat, of hard labor in the sun. He had a whiff of chili peppers about him—the latest fashion in Asgardian cuisine. He sat heavily in Thor’s mouth. He’d been right: it was a slow process bringing him to readiness. Sometimes Thor withdrew to give his jaw a reprieve, and then he worked Heimdall with his hand, spitting into it every so often for a trace of moisture, soon lost to the desert air. 

No car passed by. Heimdall’s eyes had fallen shut; he leaned against the side of the truck, his elbows propped on the frame. Looking at him, Thor was struck again with longing—for home, perhaps, but what was that but what they built themselves? Was it the past he longed for, then? But in the past he could never have had this, Heimdall easy and pleased above him: an equal. A friend.

Overcome with that feeling he still couldn’t name, Thor leaned in and kissed the inside of Heimdall’s thigh. Heimdall exhaled sharply—the first sign of Thor’s effect on him, other than the plumping of his cock. His hand came to rest of Thor’s hair. Thor kissed him again, a little higher. He kissed a careful trail all the way up Heimdall’s thigh until he’d reached Heimdall’s cock again. 

Heimdall was fully ready now. Thor sucked him gently at first, teasingly, until Heimdall’s grip tightened in his hair. Then Thor sucked him in earnest, tracing Heimdall’s slit with his tongue, using all the tricks he’d learned in the long nights while they’d shut themselves briefly away from duty. Heimdall’s stomach flexed under Thor’s hand. The next moment Heimdall spent himself in Thor’s mouth, coating the roof of it. Thor swallowed it all, and then he licked Heimdall carefully clean and tucked him away in his trousers again. At last Thor sat back on his heels. He brushed sweat from his face. He was dripping with it, flushed with the last heat of the day and with restless desire.

“I am in your debt, my king. How shall I repay it?” Heimdall brushed a thumb across Thor’s brow and let his hand drop away at last. “Would you have me on my knees?”

“Your knees are old, my friend.” Thor rose shakily and joined him, leaning still against the truck. Loki had acquired it, which perhaps explained why it was a bright, cheery red, precisely the shade of the cape Thor had worn for so many years. Thor had not yet determined whether this was mockery or a kindness. Both, perhaps; singularity of purpose was hardly Loki’s style, after all.

“Perhaps tonight, then,” Heimdall said, his fond gaze resting squarely on Thor, as had happened rarely in Thor’s childhood and did often now, when the scope of Heimdall’s sight was limited to that of ordinary men.

Or perhaps that was only Thor’s kingship, drawing all gazes to him whether he willed them or no. “Do not leave me, Heimdall,” Thor said suddenly, quite without intending to. It was a plea disguised as an order, the kind a spoiled prince would make—or an infatuated one.

Heimdall smiled, warm and slow, like honey. “I have no intention of it, your majesty.”

“Good,” Thor said. “Good.”

“And there come our rescuers,” Heimdall said, his gaze down the road. A trace of Heimdall’s far-sight remained still, for Thor saw nothing but a shadow. Probably it was the Valkyrie he saw, perhaps with one of the local Midgardians who found New Asgard so fascinating.

Thor looked himself over in case anything was amiss. He wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve, lest there be some trace of Heimdall on him. When he looked up again, he saw a boxier shadow among the hills, car-shaped. Their rescuers indeed, come to take them home.

[end]


End file.
